


Who We Are

by devylish



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devylish/pseuds/devylish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you love someone deeply, and they're taken from you, can you find love again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who We Are

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer on profile

The crew didn't say a thing; they simply nodded their heads, each of them somehow recognizing that grief affects everyone differently.

They assumed my actions - the fact that I couldn't sleep by myself - were a part of my grieving....

…. That it was Jayne's bunk that I climbed in to, caused them to question my sanity for a second, but they got past it.

Oddly enough the person who had the hardest time accepting my sudden choice of bunk mate, was Jayne himself. His first reactions to my entering his bunk – stuttering, tumbling, floundering – would have made me laugh... if I had been able to remember _how_ to laugh. Which I couldn't.

All I really knew, at that time and place, was that I needed a warm body next to me to sleep. That I needed to feel safe.

... Wash had always made me feel safe. He wasn't particularly musclebound, or particularly good with a gun, but... he made me feel safe...

He made my heart feel safe.

That sense of heart-security - of having an anchor - was what I missed most when he was taken from me.

(())

After weeks of having my mind and heart float listlessly; weeks of limited/no sleep, I took matters into my own hands and entered Jayne's bunk. I stripped the bed – I could imagine the things he'd done on those sheets – and I was in the middle of placing new ones on the mattress when he walked in.

He did the jaw drop thing. And then he did the grumbling, mumbling thing. 

The grumbling became less mumbly when I reached beneath the mattress and pulled out his magazines and loose pictures. Girlie pics and mags. I wasn't going to sleep comfortably knowing those were near. I tossed them on the shelf above the bunk and he growled a short warning.

The growling, mumbling, and grumbling _all_ came to an abrupt, screeching halt when I pulled my gun out of my holster and leaned forward and placed it under one of his pillows.

And you could hear complete silence when I unbuckled my pants and stepped out of them.

I slid out of my vest, and wearing only my top, I slipped into Jayne's bunk and under the covers.

(())

To his credit, he only said two stupid things that night. 

"Zo', you, uh, know this ain't your bunk right?"

I snorted lightly and moved back in the bed until I was against the wall.

"So, we're gonna rut?" He asked with confusion lacing his voice.

I gave a bitter laugh, and turned my back to him as I commanded, "Turn off the gorram light."

… I could almost hear him thinking.

Then I _could_ hear him moving. Muttering and moving. Something about 'gorram confusing women.'

And then the lights went out and he shuffled around in the small space of his room – stripping.

And then he was in the bed, next to me.

(())

For a bunk that was normally barely big enough to hold a man of Jayne's stature, we both, somehow managed to fit ourselves in the bed.

And I could feel, for the first time in weeks, my muscles starting to shut down. Starting to – finally – loosen..

The edge - sharp and oh so deep that had been cutting at me ever since Wash … ever since Wash had been taken from me – dulled. And I... I felt warm. On the inside – warm – for the first time since Wash died.

There was just one thing missing.

I turned over in the bed and I reached for Jayne's arm, lifting it and putting it on the pillow before settling my head on his chest.

He felt different than Wash had. Bigger. More solid. Harder.

And the difference made me want to cry.

But the truth was, I had no more tears.

So I simply moved closer to him. And let his scent – the fact that he was a man, a strong man – wash over me.

((()))

Half a year went by like this.

We were sleeping together, but we weren't rutting.

He still had his whores; the women he spent days and evenings with when we were dirt side.

But he spent every night with me.

He slept with me.

… after he'd taken the showers I demanded he take.

((()))

Another half a year went flitting by, and I was smiling again. Real, heartfelt, lips to eyes, smiling. The humor of life - the silly sweet words of Kaylee, the unexpected honesties of River, Mal's corny jokes – they were making me smile again. And it felt good.

It felt good to see Kaylee sneaking hugs from Simon. It even felt good to see Inara and River whispering to one another as they looked at the Captain. It felt good.

I was beginning to see that life still had joy.

.

.

.

That being said, the pain _was_ still there. 

Kaylee and Simon? They reminded me of Wash and me when we were first a couple – all new and shiny and soft edges. 

Inara, River, and the Captain? Their relationship, unique though it was, made them content. 

And, don't get me wrong, I was happy for them – for all of them - but their happiness? Their joy? It made me ache.

It made me long for what I didn't have.

It made me want.

I wanted to feel.

... I didn't want to fall in love. I knew I would never love anyone again – not like I'd loved... and been loved... by Wash.

But, I wanted... _more._

I wanted to tingle.

And catch my breath.

And feel desire again.

Even if it was just for a few seconds.

… it was River, with her gorram mind reading, who danced around me and finally pushed me fully in Jayne's arms.

She sing-songed her way past me one day: "Your bed could be warmer."

I smiled placatingly – as one does with a child – and quickly forgot her words.

But she said it again, later, when I was feeling particularly,... lonely.

"Your bed could be warmer." She grinned at me as my thoughts finally went the direction she wanted them to. And then she added, "He may not seem trustworthy, but he'll keep your secrets." She danced away, her words floating along the small hallway, "and he'll ease your aches."

I was left, blushing, in the hall; my mind - for the first time since Wash's death - picturing another man's hands touching my skin.

I still didn't want to – didn't even conceive of the possibility of – loving another man – but, now..., now... I was considering being with someone else.

… of seeking pleasure.

… finding pleasure with a someone else.

… someone who wasn't Wash.

((()))

When he came to bed that night, I was seated on the edge of his bunk, my hands folded on my lap.

He stopped short, just inside of the door, and his forehead folded in confusion. I was normally in bed before him, but I wasn't normally seated in the bed. I was asleep or maybe reading.

But seated?

Never.

I watched him take in the small room questioningly, looking for something that would explain my stance. Finding nothing obvious, he slowly moved his hand to the butt of the small pistol sitting in his waist holster. "Zo...?"

I kept my eyes locked with his as I spoke. "Women have needs; much like men do."

His eyebrows furled.

I pushed on.

"And because women have needs... the same needs that men do, I've – I've decided to find a man when we land on Altria and spend the night with him." I broke eye contact, I was lying, I had no intention of finding a man on Altria... unless I absolutely had to.

"Gwai-gwai long duh dong!" He pulled his gun out of it's holster, double checked the safety, and put it on the small table next to him.

"I - "

"There's no way you're going to Altria and ruttin' with some stranger!"

I raised a brow. While I was hoping he'd make an offer, I wasn't expecting him to think he could 'tell me what to do'. 

"Are you kidding me? You find a new whore in every town we come to." I took a shallow breath and repeated. "Women have needs too."

There wasn't much floor space in Jayne's room, but somehow he managed to use the little space there was, to pace. "It ain't safe for ya' to be out there."

"I'm out there every night Jayne. Who'd you think's sittin' in the bars attached to the whorehouses, watching your back while you're off ruttin'? Me! Or Mal!"

"I can take care of myself," he snarled, "'sides, this ain't about me. It's about you."

"I repeat, I'm in the same towns as you are, every time we go planet side."

"Not with your drawers down, ya' ain't!"

Well, he had me there. "Jayne..." I started, but stopped when I saw him almost physically gather himself with a decision.

"Look Zo', I know I ain't the Little Man. I ain't got his education or knowledge, but I... I think I've proved I'm.... Would you?... If you just want to satisfy yer... needs, I..." He girded his strength closer to him. "What about me?"

_He'd offered. ___

And for half a second I considered everything that could could wrong:

-Our little 'family' on Serenity could be affected by this decision.  
-Jayne could be a horrible bunk mate.  
-I could be a gorram horrible bunk mate!  
-And somewhere, faintly - so faintly I didn't even hear it – something whispered:  
Or he could be amazing.

All of these thoughts floated through my mind in the space of half a second. I offered up a nominal argument. "I ain't your type Cobb."

"What the...? I ain't got a type."

"Petite? Fallin' out of her clothes...? I ain't that type."

Jayne laughed, a real, unguarded laugh.

"You're a girl Zo'; you're my type." He paused, "'Course, as I was sayin', I ain't nothing like Wash was."

"No one is." My words were curt, sadness still lightly lacing my voice.

"Are ya' sure you wanna do this? With anyone? I mean there ain't no rush-"

"Yeah, I'm certain." I stood up and began to unbuckle my belt. I saw him open his mouth to dig deeper, and I cut him off, "Just shut up, Jayne, it's either you, or I'll find me someone else." .

(())

Our first time together wasn't spectacular.

It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't spectacular.

It was... functional.

Part A touched Part B. 

Hole 1 was filled by Screw 2. 

And everything fit - barely - but they fit. And it was… well, both of us were satisfied.

And that, after all, was the purpose of this whole activity. No strings attached, mutual satisfaction.

Men _and_ women have needs.

((())

We did 'it' twice that week.

Lights off.

Under the covers.

Silent except for an occasional sigh; a well placed groan... and finally, a breathless exhalation.

(())

Within a month, the lights were being left on and the encounters had increased to basically every other night.

And functional no longer appropriately described our sexin'.

(())

He climbed into the bunk next to me, silently, but with a glint in his eye as he took in the fact that I was fully unclothed beneath the bed coverings.

His right arm went beneath my head as his left hand slid along my skin, from my neck to my collarbone, until finally he reached my breast. The calluses on his fingers had their standard, immediate effect of causing my nipples tighten to a peak; of causing my brain to slow down and stop spinning with the thoughts of the day. And Jayne just stayed there, touching me with his gentle, yet rough hewed fingers.

He'd stopped _asking_ permission to touch me a couple of weeks ago… he now understood that women had needs.

I distracted myself – both of us – from his ministrations by bringing up the next days plan.

"Sirah will be tough."

"We can handle it."

I snorted, my hand lifting to rest on his bicep. "We both know they aren't going to accept The Captain's offer. Plan A shouldn't even be called 'a plan'."

"So we go to plan B. Vera likes plan B better anyway."

I insulted his gun, "Vera's a whore."

"And a gorram proud, gorram good whore."

His next words shouldn't have sent a shiver of pleasure through me, but they did. "Vera's like most women; she has needs.... She wants to be used, e'ery once and a while, the way _she_ wants to be used." The hand that had been so steady and insistent at my chest, moved to my ribcage, and then to my stomach, and then... lower.

Like I said, functional was gone.

(((()))))

I held the bag that held the cooked half-of-a-chicken close to my chest. It had cost half a month's pay, but I couldn't pass it up when I saw it. Jayne would devour it. 

O' course, I didn't let the others know that I'd bought the chicken with Jayne in mind. I'd simply told them that I was feeling protein deprived and had a desire for the cooked delicacy. Inara and Kaylee had smiled at one another behind my back as I paid for the chicken; a knowing look on their faces. But I missed the look; happily focused on my purchase and the thought of Jayne's probable grin when I gave it to him.

I wanted him happy. I wanted him happy because, well, for some reason, he made me happy. I hadn't – wouldn't – label my feelings for him beyond that. Beyond 'happy'. That was good enough for me. _Happy_ was enough for me. It was an emotion, an emotion I'd never thought I'd associate with Jayne. An emotion I never thought I'd truly feel again for anyone other than Wash.

But I felt it.

And it felt good.

O' course, I didn't want anyone else to know I was feeling this way, or that it was Jayne who made me feel this way. We'd kept our sexin' to ourselves. Not lettin' on to the others on the ship that we'd... well, that we'd crossed that line.

And it was better that way. If no one knew about us, no one would expect us to put bigger, fancier labels on our... on our 'happiness'

So the real purpose of the chicken, along with the changes in the definition of Jayne/Zoe, Zoe/Jayne were kept secret.

Or so I thought.

(())

"Oooh, this is a nice one." I lifted the small vial of bath oil back to my nose and inhaled as Inara read the label.

"Astrithium flowers, KaVant seeds, Blontia petals, vanilla extract." She leaned forward and sniffed at the container I held. "Oh, that _is_ nice."

Kaylee piped up, "Ya' think Jayne'll like it?"

I stilled, "Why would it matter if Jayne likes it?" I recapped the vial. '

"Well -" Kaylee started, but was interrupted by Inara who placed her hand on my forearem and spoke, "It doesn't matter –." She turned towards the perfume vendor whose booth we stood in front of. Speaking in an unstilted Ameeerian dialect, Inara indicated that we'd buy the oil in my hand and the two vials she herself held.

Kaylee scrunched her face and pouted for a few seconds before pouting, "I didn't mean nothin' by it."

Inara dropped the vials into the small reticule wrapped round her wrist and tucked one of her arms through mine and the other through Kaylee's and ushered us away from the booth and further into the market. "Of course you didn't Kaylee," she soothed.

The three of us, with River trailing behind, moved through the open air market, the sights and sounds and scents of the goods for sale, clinging to us. We walked in silence; me flustered by Kaylee's assumption that I cared about what Jayne might think of my scented purchase, Kaylee frustrated that her remark had met such resistance, Inara torn between the intended innocence of Kaylee's statement and my apparent desire to keep my intensified relationship with Jayne a secret.

And then, there was, of course, lithe, slender River who, if any of us had glanced at her would have worn a look of confusion; all of our thoughts and emotions dancing around and through her at once.

It wasn't until we were headed back to Serenity: fruit, newly purchased basic medical supplies, a couple of silken scarves, our oils, and one or two other goods in hand, that the silence that had weighed upon us was broken – by River.

She sprinted ahead of us, stopping five or six feet in the distance, and turned to face us, her hands on her slender hips. "Everyone knows."

She directed her words at me.

I was briefly confused, and then I blushed, and then I straightened my spine, and pretended to be confused again. "Knows what, little one?"

"You bought that chicken for him. Clearly you care what he thinks about your scent."

Inara opened her mouth and held up her hand in an attempt to distract River from the road she was heading down.

River ignored Inara's gestures and continued. "No. She needs to know we know. And we don't care. Well we care. But we don't. There are two kinds of caring. Three. But we're only concerned with the first two."

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout River." I walked away from the women and almost made it past River when she touched me; her powerful little hand gentle on my forearm.

"We're family. All of us on this ship. It's me and Inara and the Captain, and Kaylee and Simon, and now... now it's you and Jayne. Family. It's good. Let it be good."

I smiled down at the woman-child who knew so much, yet sometimes understood so little. Loving another man – someone who wasn't Wash – someone who was so different from Wash in so many ways – would be a betrayal. It would betray what had been between me and Wash; set lie to the love I'd had for him just as surely as if I'd taken a match to it.

I looked down at little River and whispered, "I don't think I can." My voice was so soft, I wasn't even certain that I had spoken aloud. I wasn't certain, that is until I saw the clouds cross through River's eyes. I pulled away from her gentle grip and headed up the ramp in to Serenity.

(((())))

_I couldn't love Jayne._

A chicken – a gorram half a chicken – didn't mean love.

Scented bath oil didn't mean love.

Even being happy... didn't mean love.

_Feeling safe... and warm... and feeling flutters in the pit of my stomach at the touch of his hands... didn't mean love._

_They couldn't._

Only...

... what **did** define love?

-That not only did Jayne make me feel safe, but that he wanted to protect me...?  
-That not only did I buy the bath oil with the faint question of 'will he like it' floating around in my head, but that I found Jayne nuzzling – _nuzzling_ \- at my neck, taking in the new fragrance like he'd found the perfume of the heavens?  
-That not only did I give him that gorram half a chicken, but that he shared it with me?  
-That not only do I feel warm and fluttery when he touches me, but that I find him touching me, more and more? Little touches. Touches that mean nothing and something all at once? His thumb rubbing the back of my hand. His fingers touching mine for jusssst a seconnnnd lonnnnger than necessary, when he hands me a gun.  
-That not only does he make me happy, but that I wake up, sometimes, and find him just looking down at me with a half-smile on his face that has nothing to do with sexin' and everything to do with... emotion?

What is love made of?

((()))

"Wash'd be okay with this you know."

Mal and I were outside Serenity, counting the small crates of Dashar fruit that had been part of our deal with the Manat Clan. Fruit was fairly rare these days but Dashar fruit, which they turned into wine, were particularly rare, and priceless. The exchange of five crates of S21-L rifles for twenty crates of Dashar fruit was definitely a fair trade.

"Our trading the S21's for the Dashar?"

"No." He resealed a crate and moved on to another one, using a crowbar to pry the edges up. "I mean he'd be okay with you... and Jayne."

I stopped counting the fruit in my crate. "You been talkin' to Kaylee?"

"Actually to River."

"That must have been a fun conversation."

"She has her lucid moments."

"I'm not going to ask when those are."

Mal smirked, "That's prolly wise." He picked a Dashar out of the crate and tossed it to me.

I caught it in one hand and raised a brow as he pulled another piece out and walked towards me.

Reaching in to his pocket he pulled out a small knife, flipped it open, and began to peel the dark purple skin off of fruit.

"We're gonna be short Captain."

"So we're a few pieces short, what's Quinn gonna do, shoot us?"

I raised my brow again as he cut a small piece of the the violet flesh and popped it into his mouth. I waited a beat then held my hand out for his knife. He grinned as he handed it to me.

He spoke around the fruit. "As I was sayin', I think Wash would..., he'd approve."

"There's nothing for him to approve." Denial works.

"I'm just gonna say this once, and I don't want you to be gettin' tetchy about it, but, you two ain't as quiet at night as you might be thinkin' you are."

"Aww, niou fun..."

"I'm just sayin', Serenity is a good ship, but she's small. And she ain't exactly soundproof."

I groaned, then headed towards denial again. "Sexin' don't necessarily have to mean somethin'."

"It don't necessarily have to mean somethin' to _some_ people. But it means somethin' to you."

I remained silent.

"And it means somethin' to Jayne."

I gave a bark of laughter. "Oh Captain, please! Jayne has had more sex, with more women," I couldn't keep the acid out of my tone, "than any man I've ever met." I glanced over at Mal, "includin' you!"

Mal nodded and shrugged, "But see, that's just it Zoe, he's been with a lot of women and he's never even hinted at settlin' down, and yet, now...? When's the last time he went whorin'?"

I opened my mouth then shut it.

"You two have been... sexin' for - what - the past six months now? He's been in his own bunk, with you every night since that started."

"Why pay for it when you can get it free?"

Mal looked at me, "He doesn't talk about them, he doesn't look at 'em when we're in town," Mal held up his hand, "okay, he still looks - he's a red blooded man - but he looks away again. E'er since you... he looks away."

I could feel the tension building up in my shoulders. Tension over the Captain's words...over what he was suggesting.

"And to get back to where this conversation started." He popped the last piece of Dashar into his mouth. "The one thing I know about Wash, the biggest part of that man? Was his heart. And and the biggest part of his heart? It was filled with you. And wantin' you to be happy. If Jayne makes you happy? _That_ would make Wash happy."

Mal pushed away from my side and took the piece fruit that still sat, barely touched, in my hand. "I reckon I can finish these crates myself..., if you have somethin' better to do."

((()))

It took me a week to process Mal's words. A week of me lying in bed with Jayne and not lettin' him touch me. A week of him walking into his room, looking at me and trying, in his own way, to read me.

I barely spoke to him in that week, but my mind was full of words, thoughts. My body was full of desires and wants. And my heart... I could feel my heart beating.

On the sixth day, Jayne entered his room to find me standing in front of the bunk.

He watched me. And I watched him.

I watched him as he loosened and removed his shoulder holster, unbuckled and removed his hip holster, and undid the leather wrapped around his wrists.

He didn't take his eyes off of mine until he was ready to set all these items on the small table by his bunk. "You made a decision then?" He didn't look at me and his voice was hard as he spoke.

I hadn't even realized he knew I was weighin' things - measurin' things between us. He, of course had to of known something was wrong, but his tone, just now? He knew _what_ was wrong. He knew why I had pulled away. I wondered briefly if Mal - or River – had spoken with him.

"You're not Wash." I started with the obvious. "You don't look like him. You don't act like him. You sure as dishwater don't think like him."

"You done listin' my faults yet?"

I smiled slightly. "Thing is, you bein' different from Wash doesn't make you 'bad'."

"It -?"

"It means you're not Wash. You're Jayne." I stepped towards him. "It means you're handsome in your own 'Jayne way'. It means you act from your gut; and you may not want to save the world, but you want to save us... the people you care for." I stepped even closer and placed my hands on his chest.

I could feel his heart beating beneath my hand. It was firm and insistent and – alive.

I blinked back the tears that wanted to fall and instead of crying, I whispered: "I'm glad you're _you_. And I'm glad you're here."

I could feel his hesitance as he lifted his hands to touch me; one on my hip, one at the back of my neck.

He tilted my head back, just enough for me to see his eyes. For him to see mine. The hand at my hip moved to my face and he used his thumb to touch my cheek.

"I'm never gonna be him. I can promise you some things, but I can't never be as smart as him. Or as educated as him... Heck, Doc would be a closer fit for you than I am – if you were lookin for another Wash that is."

"Well, I guess we're fortunate that I've decided I don't want another Wash. I already... I already had my Wash, and now... now I want my Jayne." Fear hit me quickly, the fear that every woman feels when she's admitted to a man that she wants him. Wants him as a part of her life. "I don't mean to tie you down or suggest that you want to be more than we've been, but I – I –."

Jayne shut me up in a purely Jayne-like fashion. He cupped my face with his hands he kissed me.

Jayne always kissed with passion. With intensity. But this kiss... this kiss was: passion, and intensity, **and** softness, and admiration, and... promise.

All the things he could promise me - safety, strength, desire, laughter..., a future – all of those things were in that kiss.


End file.
